Down But Not Out
by DreamEscape1675
Summary: Peggy regrets never giving Steve her surrendering heart. She never surrenders. Her red lips can tell stories of moments in the past that meant virtue to her strength, hope and life. (Steve & Peggy)
1. Chapter 1

**Stories Worth Living**

**All characters rightfully belong to Marvel Comics**

**I own nothing**

**(This story is dedicated to JuliaAurelia)**

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><p>Blinking the gray fogginess of the snow haze afternoon, Peggy wasn't entirely sure or why she made the arrangement of meeting the most infamous assassin of Soviet ghost files. She had a mission to complete. Of course her dreams of a better life were scattered in the wind along with regrets; and then, she had finally gathered herself up when she faced her deepest turmoil. Withholding her heart in locked down barriers. She had grieved in silence from the moment she heard his beautiful and firm voice fade from the radio.<p>

_Peggy. This is my choice._

Memories of the young Brooklyn captain—Steven Rogers wasn't something she could simply put in hat box and stuff in closet. They were nagging whispers of fragments intermixed with desperation and daring feelings she would never admit it with her scarlet painted deepest of sorrow always found a way put a lance straight through her wounded heart.

Though she tried to manage of ignorance of her faults, and stayed true to her noble cause of justice and world peace; her fashionable and stalwart self always reached an impasse when her jeweled chocolate eyes found themselves staring into the past, back when she felt him smile when her back was turned.

When she was a young woman of decision, strength and stubbornness, but also a willy-nilly English girl who had been caught up in childhood dreams running off with her valiant knight.

Sure, it was bloody easy to dream, temptation was always close to strike her, but she collected herself, put on the regal and dominating semblance of a queen and walked through the doors, invading masculine integrity and rebuilding foundations that were left to rot after the destruction, mortal peril and aftermath of the bloodiest and sadistic of world wars she had been put on a uniform for.

She lived in dark times, her life had always been about surviving, since she was schoolgirl, or in 1934, an airfield nurse for the Royal Air force; where she mended broken airmen and restored their fighting spirits. She witnessed many planes thunder down the runaways at dusk, and waited for brave gentlemen to return. She lost many friends during the bombing raids over Germany, the best English lads she had the privilege to call her champs. Nothing last forever, and those card slips on the boards of missions faded as names were scraped and letters in lockers sent back to the homes of the English countryside.

It was hard for her to buckle down her emotions and carry on the carry the burden of holding many hearts in her pocket became to heavy to store up.

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><p><em>"There's a sight for my old eyes to gaze upon every waking day,"<em>

_Peggy simply ignored the comment as she clicked her heels in front of the ground crew standing in front of an ensemble of newly assembled _Hawker Hurricane_; she was a beautiful distraction of many airmen who dared to cross her path; dressed in her navy blue and buttoned uniform, lush brown hair curled and twisted into a bun and a medical bag slung over her trim shoulder. She was only sixteen, a lamb entering the territory of untamed lions, but she found a thrill of enticement as she stood her ground, and didn't allow those men to become distractions. She had a job to do. Lives counted on her. She never let any of them down on her watch._

_"Are you boys finished?" she asked, placing her hands over her curves. "You know I can write you up,"_

_"Oh, Peg," a dark haired, twenty year old ace pilot and gunner, William .H. Coltmane, chimed back, with a coy smirk tugging on his lips. "We meant no harm. It was just a bit of fun." He flippantly gestured his gloved hand to the warplane that had her name painted just below the wing. "You're our lucky charm. The best girl who always guides us back home."_

_Peggy just shook her head, "I doubt my name will bring you any luck." she retorted back, moving closer to the plane and tracing her hand against the steel wing. "Why do you even bother putting a lady's name on a machine, William?"_

_William's blue eyes gleamed, as he looked at her for a long moment, and then answered. "This machine is real lady to do dancing with, Peggy," He jumped off the hood of the jeep, threw his cigarette to the ground, and then with confidence swaggered closer to her. "She can be real delicate when she wants or unpredictable, but when you put your trust in her at the moment when things seem impossible, that when she really shows you that she is a fighter and she won't let you lead the dance." _

_Hearing those gentle words, Peggy smirked to herself, and placed her hand on the red paint of her name. She felt honored and part of this world of extraordinary obstacles, tyranny and daring heroics._

_ It made her feel alive. _

_"You forget that that this girl has a sharp mind of her own, and allows no one to dominate her true power."_

_He lifted his hand to her soft cheek, brushing off he stray curls, and smiled tenderly at her, "You're quite...I mean one hell of a lady, Peggy Carter, always ahead of game, and never weak in the ankles. I know you're meant for great things than cleaning out bullet wounds; you're a fighter in this war as well, maybe not in the skies or on the battlefield, but in spirit." He traced his thumb over her bright red lips. "Anyone who gladly take a bullet for you, well, that's if you let them."_

_"This why you put my name on your blasted plan, is it?" Peggy replied, looking directly into his light blue eyes. "You wouldn't lie to me?"_

_"No, Peggy," William dropped his hand, and interlocked his fingers with hers, clasping them with a gentle squeeze. "It is a honor to have your name on my plane. It's like you're up there in battle, nagging me to shoot at the right direction." He sighed, looking up at the dawn colors of lavender piercing through the golden tinted clouds. It was almost time for him to take to skies. "I was thinking, maybe when I get back we'll go dancing, like we've promised. Name the place and song, and I will be there-"_

_"Don't make promises you can't keep, William. I want to make sure my dancing shoes match my dress." She had kept her relationship with him very elusive from the others, they grew up together, and were best mates. He had always been her big brother, protective, cocky and defiant. _

_It always put a dull ache in her chest when she listened to those engines roar and watched his plane slice through the skies. Today, she felt a cold sense that she would never see him again, but she had been preparing every goodbye, read his letters he stuffed in his locker, they were never sealed, because he always added more._

_William brushed warmth over her cheek, "I'll come back, Peg." he avowed, with uncertainty in his honest voice. "You can't get rid of me this easily..."_

_It came out so easy for her lips to produce, "Who says I want too, William," she gave him a gentle smile, although she wasn't entirely satisfied with her choice of words. William was her weakness; he always saw right through her tough exterior which other men claimed to be impenetrable, but he was her shield during those dark days of feeling detachment from her own household. They had many adventures together; but she was ready to engage the greatest of all adventures with him-marriage and family. _

_Gathering herself up, Peggy looked down, avoiding his piercing blue eyes; she couldn't bring herself to say farewell._

_"You know I've never really been on a plane," she admitted in scarce breath, trying to make certain that doubt would not settle in her heart. "I've always dreamed about taking to the skies and dodging heavy fire. I guess this life will always keep me grounded-"_

_William shook his head, threading his fingers through her chocolate ringlets. "You will soar, Peggy Carter." he declared, looking deeply into her rich brown eyes that held so much fire and determination. "Do not allow this war to get the best of you," She tilted her head up. The world dimmed as she felt his hand encompass her cheek, so delicately that it was enough to ease the tears back. "Now, see, I don't want my best girl to cry...We'll be together before Horus Gladsmere has emptied another pint."_

_Peggy bit down on her lip, as she drank in the small, carefree smile that spread across his face. He looked so young, just a boy in a uniform, fearless, hell-bent and ready to take on the world. She rested her hand on his cheek and smiled through her tears. "You better come back, and that is a bloody order." She fixed the collar of his jacket, and then pulled him closer, crashing her lips over his yielding mouth, all the while delivering a hard and breathless kiss to shut him up before he had a chance to escape her._

_He pulled away, unable to speak, and then placed a chaste kiss on her heated cheek. "Look to skies, and guide me back home, Peggy."_

_"You can count on it," she smiled, using her thumb to smudge away the lipstick on his mouth. "Now, go give one for me..."_

_Within a moment, before she could say another word, he was already climbing into the cockpit, goggles down and eyes trained on the controls._

_Peggy granted him a small wave, and watched the fighter plane taxi down the runaway as others followed and lifted to the fading sky. __She turned around, refusing to look back, and knowing that if she did_—_it would keep her grounded._

_She gave him a one hand solute, and whispered with heartache yielding in her soul. "Safe return, William..."_

_ TBC... _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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><p>He never came back. His plane was shot down from the German skies.<p>

Peggy never felt so... distraught when her jeweled brown eyes pinned on the direction of runaway. Her heart had been sliced out her chest, and thrown into the flames. Weakness grasped the marrow of bones as she stood in front of the vacant and neglected graveyard.

Her black trench coat hugged over her curves and heeled shoes clicked on the frozen ground. Small whirlwinds of dried petals and decaying leaves spun around her. Her gaze settled upon the barren trees lining the vast space and crumbling headstones and she pulled out a white rose from her pocket and gripped the stem firmly. In the distance the RAF march echoed over the airfields.

Usually, Peggy was in line dressed in her navy blue uniform and hat, hand holding a solute and eyes looking forward while listening to the morning drills. As a young girl, she had grown accustomed to following orders and withholding discipline. It was the only life she known outside of boarding school and house parties her mother had thrown to regain a place in the English high society. Her mother, Elisabeth Olive Carter, whom was a descent from the long line of British nobility and a part of an order of precedence of House of Lords with pivilages and responsibilities. Her great grandmother, Margret Rose was an Irish countess whom married a Duke and emerged both bloodlines into the peerage of the British honor system.

Peggy respected the sacrifice her great grandmother endured, and carried some of her determination and resilience within her. It was in her blood to become courageous, benevolent and strong.

She refused her mother's proposals of being an honorary lady countless of times by using the influences of Florence Nightingale and Joan of Arc to withhold her place in the unraveling world of men.

She kept those pieces of literature close at hand, and never failed to go a month without reading a small chapter of inspiration.

Now, as she pushed open the rusted iron gates with a creak from its old hinges, eaten way by the elements and time and took a hesitant stroll down a graveled path with hints of snow building over the crushed stone. She held the rose in her clutch, relying on her inner strength to guide her to the one grave she had hoped in this lifetime she would never have to face. She took large gulp fulls of frigid air, breathing in the day and refreshing her hideous torrents of overbearing emotions that raked across her rake ten times over when her brown eyes locked on the marble marker. Carefully, without feeling the urge to cry, she crouched to her knees, and brushed her reluctant fingers over the etching of the name. Her dearest friend, brother and dream. She had become lost in her own grief and was drowning in the pit of regret.

"William," a ghost of a whisper escaped from her ruby lips. She stared at the small piece of stone that meant so little and didn't have the details of William's life etched on the surface. Although she would never admit it, Peggy felt displaced and lost in her own narrow world of decision between the heart and spirit. The shadow of war was growing thicker by each day, hidden threats were cultivating underground. She knew that change was coming to her country and home. She had to be certain that her friend didn't die in vain.

Peggy carefully place the white rose at the foot of the gravestone alongside some other bouquets that lay there, clearing given by friends, family and fellow soldiers on their visits. She frown at the picture of him encased in a glass frame, black and white with a dashing smile and fully dressed in his RAF uniform. His blue eyes were bright with a sparkle of defiance, just reminding her what a treasure and hero he was.

"Hello, my dear William," Peggy murmured respectfully, bowing her head down and brushing away the chocolate ringlets that shaped over her distraught face. "It's been another bloody day at the office. No one seems to have a clue about reading a proper map. If you..." She pressed her lines into a tight grimace, feeling tears swell into her eyes. She was on the verge of unleashing her pain, but she managed keep tears contained while she heart throbbed against her chest. She had to be strong for him, and gather herself up. _Peggy Carter never remains broken. _She thought, being stalwart and steadfast during her emotional trails. "You would find a way to shape things up down there."

Her body remain frozen as the air buffeted her, whipping her long dark curls, feeling the disheveled strands of refinement slash across her ivory powdered cheeks.

"Margret," An elderly voice called from behind. Peggy knew she wasn't alone. Quickly, she directed her head and stared into calm gray eyes of William's grandmother, Elanor Coltmane, a former secretary of Britain's Prime Minister. She was a respected woman of declaration and gumption and Peggy's second mother figure. She stood behind Peggy, holding an umbrella as rose petals of white and departed from the rose and fell over the marble marker.

A light, misty drizzle patted over them. Sounds of church bells chimed in still grayness in the distance. It was a dark hour of remembrance.

"This is poorly unfair," Peggy sniffled, turning to Elanor. She gritted her teeth, and shook her head. "I blame myself for not being there to guide him on the radio transmission." Her heart swelled rigidly in her chest. "That is my deepest regret." She lowered her eyes, fighting away the tears the managed to sting as her heeled shoe dug into the frozen ground. She loathed at her confined emotions. "I should have done something...Anything to prevent his stubborn headiness from going out might have been alive to take me dancing."

Elanor shook her head, and grasped Peggy's arm."Now, you listen to me, Miss Margaret Carter." she said in a firm voice, as her glassy blue eyes mirrored pain. "To become a strong woman in this compromising world you must not allow yourself to cry. You lift your head up and carry on the mission. It not be easy at first but it helps take away all grief and regret. My grandson knew what he was doing...I ask you as a old woman and a friend to respect his choice and do not let yourself be damned by the mistakes you have believed yourself to have made."

For a moment, Peggy just listened. Planes and drill bells chiming through the downpour. It was the only world she had ever known, according to the documents she glanced on at the desk inside the debriefing room the world was going to get darker-the shadow of war and tyranny shroud over Central London, tin bomb shelters were already being constructed, air raid sirens were mounted on high peaked buildings, and everything seemed restless with a heaviness of fear. She was entering the battle zone of warfare and death. William was an ace pilot -her dearest friend who had warned her about the coming days-if she hadn't been so blinded by her broken heart she would have seen the forthcoming signs of hellish situation.

"You're quite right, Ms. Coltmane," Peggy finally spoke, pressing her burgundy painted lips into a thinned line, and felt her heart cease to beat for a momentary lapse of pain. "It's time that I leave everything behind me and carry on this fight alone. " Her lips formed into a still line. "I'm uncertain of which direction to take. William has been my compass and without him leading me I feel truly and doubtfully lost. I have no battle plan to follow." She admitted with disdainful worry." Just my wits."

As an expert in true context of guarding emotion, Elanor didn't judge the young woman standing in front of her. She wanted to help Peggy find a new purpose.

Sadness. She catch a glimpse of it on Peggy's youthful face. A flat look of nothingness. Despite the fact that her demeanor was fierce and hardened. She knew Peggy was a woman of great decision and able to take on any hardship of challenge the world threw out her. It was a unsettling feeling that stirred within her old bones as she watched the young woman she cared about as a daughter crumple into pieces. This wasn't the Peggy Carter she knew. But another woman in a vacant and timid shell that was daring herself to fall off the edge and drown into oceans of her deepest failures.

Elanor didn't say anything at first, after seeing a stray tear roll over Peggy's cheek, she parted her wrinkled lips and asked, "Where are you going to go from here, Peggy Carter." She called the brunette by the name that defined her. "Your mother wants you to work in the office under the dominance of men. I figured that is not the life you so hope to grasp." She paused for a breath, and gave Peggy a gentle smile. "You are meant for great things beyond a Englishwoman's exceptions. I have a feeling you won't find them here..." She gestured her hand to the grave and sighed. "My husband always said that if you were a young chap, you would be battle hearted on the front lines and commanding our boys to victory. I never believed in his nonsense until I saw you wearing a uniform and I knew he was right. You are meant to lead men out of those blasted foxholes they climb into when fear takes wing."

Peggy shot a glance down at the grave. She bit her lip, her voice was low, and bitter murmur. "All I've really wanted was to prove to myself that I can be strong enough to fight my own battles."

"Peggy," Elanor said, slow and calm and then words fell from her lips quick. "You have nothing to prove." It was the truth. She had to put some form of ease back into the young woman's resilient heart. She had been left in the dark of her grief for the last five years since her husband, Henry died from a failing liver that was created after pieces of shrapnel penetrated his stomach during a battle in the trenches.

He served with Peggy's father in the British Expeditionary Force (BEF), both men fought alongside on the Western Front and raced through the trenches under seized by massive rifle fire. Her father carried a chivalry sword and received the Victory Metal for leading the Third Army through the hell pits of No Man's Land.

Maybe Peggy joined the RAF to honor her father? She respected brave sacrifice he made to ensure her family's freedom. Her prim and proper mother, Elisabeth refused her to become a member of the lower class of the society of women, she sent Peggy to boarding schools, and a mansion in Paris where she lived with a ill daughter of French General-maintaining the rose gardens, kitchen and planning parties-she formed many friendships, but after her father died, she returned and enlisted herself at the age of sixteen to the British Armed Forces, however she wasn't granted respect, and was given the duty outside the ranks-an airfield nurse.

Now, Peggy was standing in the middle of the cross ways, uncertain which direction to take, "I need to get away from the ranks and blasted planes." she said quietly, masking the anguish that gutted out her heart. "I can't look back, and pretend that he'll be there waiting for me in the doorway. I've done enough crying to assure my mind that he's never coming back. Things will be never the same as they were." She confessed, blinking fiercely at the grave. Her eyes watered. And her whole lithe frame just crumpled and sunk into the earth ready to fall deeper into oblivion with just one more quake of dread to rattle against her feet. "I would...I would have spent a whole lifetime with him, and I could have been a great wife and mother. It would have been a perfect accomplishment and reward for the both of us."

"I know it hurts, Peggy. It hurts me to. You can't around and wallow in this grief. William would have never allowed that." She lightly smiled, placing a firm grip over Peggy's shoulder with her free hand. "You're struggling to prove yourself in a world that is veiled by greed and power. You're entering the war with the rest of us. I will be damned to find out that Peggy Carter spent the rest of her days locked in a house sheltered by her regrets." She held her breath for a long moment, looking deeply into Peggy's rich brown eyes and saw a spark of life igniting through the murky dimness. "I want you to ask yourself, what would Peggy do?"

Peggy squeezed her eyes shut, and listened to her heart. "She would not allow this to get the best of her. She would fight."

Elanor smiled. "That's more like it, my dear," she said, and pulled out a folded piece of piece from her coat. "Before I forget, William wanted me to give you this in case he never returned. I've been selfish holding it in my bloody pocket." She extended out her frail hand, and placed it gently into Peggy's clutch. The younger woman looked at her with confusion welled in her glistening brown eyes. "He always wanted you to have the best in life, Peggy. He wouldn't want to see his best girl cry. She pulled a tender smile on her lips. "He always hated it when you cried..."

Peggy almost laughed at that, but she held back and read the elegantly written note, as she felt the sleeping part of her soul awaken with those few words that had a bountiful of meaning and comfort hidden in the dried ink.

_My dearest Peggy,_

_Today at 1800 hours I have to dispatch from London. Something is arising on the German border and must be address. War is coming Peggy. The world that we've known is falling a part in the shadows. I don't want you to worry; everything will be fine. When I make my landing on British soil, I'm taking my best girl dancing and to our favorite place we used to play many adventures as children. You know, the old white and blue lighthouse. That beacon that always guides ships back home. It reminds me of you, Peggy. You're that light that always brings those who are lost back where they need to be. _

_I want you to know, Peggy, in case I cannot return to you, I love you...Always and true. _

_One day you will meet a good man, someone that will be your shield and show you his heart with and without an uniform. You will love him as I have loved you. There will be difficult storms that come your way, but know that when you put your faith and hope inside a soldier's heart , he will change your course of direction and find you back home._

_I am proud of the woman you have become. I has been a honor and a gift to spent this piece of my life with you, Peggy Carter._

_Until we see each other again._

_With love,_

_William._

She didn't move for a minute, allowing her tears to flow down her cheeks. Every muscle ached and yet she felt a kindling flame burning inside of her. William wasn't gone, his legacy and unbreakable spirit welled inside of her because he had given a way to believe in herself again. She held that note close to her heart, and looked at Elanor and said with a twinge of hope. "Peggy Carter is ready for the next mission."

Elanor smiled. She nodded in return before saying, "Looks like we have much work to accomplish before you head out to America."

Peggy's brown eyes lightened at that, "America?"

She lifted her gaze to the ashen clouds, and held her up high to the faint rays of sunlight.

The gloom had faded and the golden flecks of light pushed through. It was a sign of the anew hope that she needed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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><p>The buzzing sound of the radio broadcast of the last German air raid caught filled her ears a second time and Peggy realized she had drifted away from the gray world around her. Which she found ironic, given she was in the process of escaping the shadows of tyranny that stretched over the English Channel, although she was called to another part of the world which was much different than hers. Standing on the platform, she had projection an air quite desperation, with a sultry smile covering her inner turmoil with a delicate coat of rouge, the regret was clearing evident underneath.<p>

Surrounded by all ranks of soldiers barely over the drinking age, mostly having returned from airborne combat raids with the R.A.F, she longed to get away from the masculine smell of wavering testosterone and fear. They reeked of uncertainty and stale beer. She was waiting for the train to take her away from the bravado of uniformed youth of arms. Also she was searching for William, the jutting deception of her grieving heart created illusions in the crowd; it was a distraction to turn her off course. She never believed in ghosts and things of great nonsense. Her jeweled brown eyes flickered against the haze of lamp light and nose crinkled to the stench of combat surrounding every vacant shadow. It wasn't a civilized world anymore, men weren't labors in steel mills or bankers, they were trained to kill-that was the decent way of making a living.

She was ready to walk away from all of this, to give herself an new assessment, not as Margret Carter, which sounded avenger and much older for her age, Peggy Carter was clear and filled with authority that was lacked in young English women. Not the female patrons of nobility and freedom of history.

She refused to become a welcoming doormat for men of high society to shake the dust off their feet on. It would become her right to bear herself into the world of dominating men dressed in tailored pressed suits and shiny shoes. Inside, she felt like the fortunate daughter, no longer walking in her mother's shadow, chasing her down and setting up a new phase of her life. She just needed someone to point her in the right direction of the waiting train.

Taking a step of chance, her heel caught a obscured crack in the cement, and Peggy stumbled, but to her surprise a strong arm wrapped over her back.

The warmth of muscle encased over her rigid bones as she dared a glance at her unknown rescuer. Blinking the murky haze out of her brown eyes and regaining clarity Peggy found herself staring into tender gray eyes of a man much older than most of strapping young boys lingering around the station. His haircut of brunette was neatly groomed, uniform fastened over his powerful torso-the familiar dark blue colors of the R.A.F. and demeanor was chivalrous and very gentlemen like. Not arrogant and brazen like most soldiers. At least not the English one, with cigarettes drooping from their lips and uniforms wrinkled. Disgraceful. If asked, he certainly would consider himself no less than a solider than the rowdy men in the station. He must have taken many lives over the Channel with a stalwart heart and a grace of humanity and he most certainly know that killing lives for the noble cause of freedom was not to be spoken in vain. _Maybe there were still good men who believed in everything that England stood for? Maybe there was still hope arising?_

She smiled to herself, knowing that it wasn't going to happen. She already had seen the heart of men on the air fields. Most of them wore the faces of cowards, not warriors who clutched shields of virtue in their grasp. They shot down German fighters without a decent thought that life was a game—there were losers and victors. Nothing was in between. She already seen the signature of death on grave stones, and she refused to allow another men to obstruct her from a much greater purpose than spending her days underground, treating wounds from survivors from the bombing raids.

She carried skills that outmatched many women she had been employed to fix tea and mend battle scars under commands. Feeling a steadfast beat, Peggy quickly gathered herself up. She stared firmly into the stranger's concerned eyes while gripping onto the handle of her suitcase, considering that their meeting wasn't planned. She held her head up, confident and brown eyes guarded. "I thank you for coming to my rescue. It seems that I'm bit out of focus at the moment. I have to retrace my steps, and avoid another crack under my heel."

"It is quite alright," he said with a grace of a smile, easing his hand off her shoulder. "It was my pleasure rescuing you. I'm surprised that not a young chap around here would look onward doing that time of fall."

"That, I must agree with you," Peggy returned, her red lips curved into a faint smirk. Her brown eyes leveled with his blue-gray service uniform, she observed the flight sergeant emblems and metals "I can see that you wear the colors of the Royal Air Force. I must certain that you are either part of the bomber command of the Hurribombers of a fighter pilot who's part of the Hawker Hurricane squadron?"

"Actually, I am a pilot of the supermarine Spitefire. My squadron No. 609 has been shooting down Messerschmitts over Dover." He whispered closely, keeping a sharp eye over Peggy's shoulder. "There's been whispers of a classified initiative on the German air ways of full out strike on our airfields. The reason why I'm telling you this information, and just I know that are part of the RAF. I believe that you worked under some air commanders based outside the main points of German targeted areas."

"Well, it wasn't a daily hobby," Peggy said, narrowing her eyes at the suitcase. "Just a bit of experience that I've achieved after overcoming a few issues of wanting independent missions away from hotel rooms..." Her voice trailed, as she kept her fixed gaze on the train. "Now, I'm putting that part of my life behind me. I'm heading to America to work a purpose away the shadows of war." She gave him a crooked frown. "I have known about Dover for three weeks. Since I decoded a encrypted message sent by the German dense force. It shouldn't be taken lightly and resolved before they release their bombs in the heart of London." She felt the prompting to head towards to the train, looking instinctively at a shady figure leaned against the wall. He wasn't fashioned with an English stance of clothing. Pure ebony with a hat obscuring his acute eyes. A Nazi spy.

"Don't look now, but I think our light conversation is being watched by German eyes." Peggy whispered, her lips tugged into false smirk. He settled her coffee pools at his chiseled and refined features, looking directly into his gray eyes. "Listen to my instructions." He nodded at her words. "I'm going to put my arms around you, and we're going to play a game of pretend. Nothing to deep, but make look real to deceive our observer. Than, I will state my goodbye and walk towards the train, and you will to the newspaper stand and grab the latest bundle of news. Do I make myself clear?"

Caught of guard by the suddenness in her voice, he said nothing, a tender smile ghost over his thinned lips as mask of solace took over his face. He hesitantly nodded. Peggy smiled again, brushed her polished fingers over his broad shoulders, "A light kiss on the lips with a desperate embrace of emotion."

She made it sound easy, but he felt himself trembling under the uniform. It almost felt like...their country's security depended on their false kiss. He lifted his hand, caressing her ivory skin, and looking fondly into her brown eyes. Rich and full of destructible fire. Behind them, the German was nearing closer to their position.

Tension had thickened into the air, as much older man wearing glasses hustled to the platform, holding a briefcase, and moving at a rabid speed as if he was being hunted.

The pilot responded to her performance, she wrapped her arms over his shoulders, and he threaded his fingers through her chocolate ringlets, he waited for a second to catch another glimpse of the German looming near the newsstand, walking with methodical and purposeful steps. It was clear to him, that the spy wasn't actually there to read their lips, but an SS assassin ordered to kill the man in glasses. He felt his lips curl involuntarily, his hands grasping over her skin, and he whispered a fraction of breath, "There's a man moving closer to the train...I'm guessing he is the prime target. I can't be certain by the German's have come here armed with weapons or poison. I do know that if you don't get on that train you'll be their next target. Now, I'm going to kiss you and watch you board." Feeling his heart pounding, he crushed his lips against hers, embracing her into his arms. The kiss was wet, hot and full of affection. He was a true gentleman.

Peggy closed her eyes, relishing the pressure of his heated mouth enveloping over urging lips. Time froze between them and sounds dulled as the train whistle lulled her back, and she pulled away, slowly unraveling herself from him. She took two steps back, and grabbed her suitcase and listened to the skull splitting sound of a kill shot. Her eyes flashed as she settled her gaze on a smoking gun clutched in his hand. " I thought you said that you're a fighter pilot?" she placed her hands on her curves, furrowing her eyebrows as her eyes drifted to the sight of the German's body laying on the ground in a pool of blood.

"Oh," he breathed, with an ashamed look spread across his features. "That's only my day job." He got no reply. "He was going to kill that man of importance. A German scientist developing a new form of a liquid weapon. I am is escort until he boards the train." He lowered his gun, and looked into her confused and yet hardened brown eyes.

"If you must know," he spoke using a conspiratorial whisper," I happen to be someone very dangerous when it comes to securing the safety of England's freedom from the Nazi empire."

Peggy nodded wordlessly, and brushed the curls off her cheek, "Well, next time-"

He placed another kiss on her cheek, "Safe travels, Miss Carter," he said, with charming grin, and then he left, vanishing like a shadows, without her getting the second the word.

_How does he know my name?_

Peggy inwardly cursed herself for not getting his name, but then she looked down at a paper he dropped, and stared at the two letters, E.J.

She curved her lips into a impressed smile, and then turned for the train, disciplining herself not to look back, to keep moving forward. It wasn't until she reaching the traveling and stuffed her suitcase into a tight spot above her seat that she realized a new adventure was just beginning. William was gone from the world, but never her heart. She would find him still existing in the eyes of good men, maybe only a small number that she will find during her travels across the world. It also gave her a new form of hope that maybe, just maybe she would finally get that dance.

Feeling her jump pulsing with anticipation of what lay ahead of her, Peggy sat down elegantly in the seat, legs crossed and flipped through the pages of her book, while watching the older scientist huddle in the wad of his jacket across from her. Rubbing her ruby lips, she narrowed her curious eyes at his briefcase, and quietly read out the name plated with gold lettering.

_Dr. Abraham Erskine._


End file.
